


we'll cut the strings maybe

by ithacas



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Overstimulation, Painplay, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2785931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithacas/pseuds/ithacas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>liam’s been fighting her feelings too long. it was bound to blow up in her face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we'll cut the strings maybe

**Author's Note:**

> Cis!girl Liam and Harry. Everything else is the same.
> 
> Warning for a brief mention of Harry being outed in the press without her consent.

They leave straight after Tulsa. After the final bars of What Makes You Beautiful, Zayn jumps from the stage and they all follow suit, mindful of Paul watching them behind the curtains. The crowd is still going wild behind them and singing along to the band playing out but they're herded off to their dressing rooms where Caroline's waiting, arms open. Louis and Niall are already hopping on one foot trying to get their skinny jeans off and Zayn's up ahead, foregoing a clothes change to get a comfortable seat in one of the cars. Liam can't blame him; it feels like they've been running on nothing but steam the last couple of days and the thought of a break - even a day and a half one on the bus driving cross country - sounds like heaven.

Harry's in a corner of the room whispering with Lou, still in her black dress, one strap falling constantly off her shoulder. Liam can't help that she finds her immediately; it's not just Harry's inherent magnetism that they’ve all come to accept as part of the package; it's the fierce protectiveness that even fighting with Harry won't let Liam ignore her. She shucks off her shorts and pulls on one of Niall's Obey crew necks and a pair of leggings, all the while letting her eyes flit over to Harry. She's in that animated, post-gig haze Liam loves to see her in; all wild gestures that make the crew give her wide berth, flushed cheeks and bright eyes. It's hard to look away, even when Louis gives her the stink eye and shoves at her shoulder to move. "C'mon, mate, I wanna catch some telly before I pass out."

Liam goes along with it, lets Louis push her through the corridors with Alberto watchful behind them until they get to one of their black SUVs. They give a cursory greeting to the driver and Louis sprawls on top of Liam, burying his face in her stomach. Liam wrinkles her nose at him. "You stink, Lou, ugh, get off -"

"I am a _man_ , Liam Payne -"

"A shower wouldn't have killed you, god, I'm getting out of here -" She goes to unlock the door at her side but Alberto's shaking his head.

"There are paps outside, Paul doesn't want you guys to get in the middle of it."

Liam slumps back in her seat. Louis, still on her lap, looks a lot more awake. "They sent 'em here? Harry has _some_ standards."

Alberto says nothing, just checks his phone and goes to open his own door. Liam can hear a flurry outside and the shutter of a camera and then someone in a hoodie comes in, holding a sleepy Lux in her arms. Alberto's quick to click the door locked behind them and taps the driver's seat, signaling him to go. "You're not Lou," says Louis uselessly. "What have I told you about kidnapping, Harold?"

Liam can see the flash of Harry's grin even before she pulls the hood from her head. She's still in her stage makeup, all smokey eyeshadow and dramatic lipstick, but the lights from the venue make her look pale. Her hair's the only thing she's managed to sort out before she got ushered into the car; it's piled on her head in a knot, loose curls bouncing on her forehead as they drive off.

"Didn't kidnap her," Harry says easily, adjusting her arms so Lux can fall onto her shoulder more comfortably. She looks peaceful there; and whatever frantic energy Harry had before seems to have melted away just by carrying the toddler. "Me and Tom left together and the paps thought I was Lou so they didn't hassle us. She was asleep anyway. Didn't wanna wake her."

Louis nods and reaches over to poke softly at Lux's foot. She makes an involuntary noise, kicking out on instinct, and they all smile at it. Harry even manages to meet Liam's eyes for a second, still grinning, before she remembers they're not talking. They both look away when they do remember; Harry buries her nose in Lux's hair and Liam looks out the blackened glass of the window, her chest tight. At least she can see the tour buses in sight. She's not sure she can stand tiptoeing around Harry in such a small space right now.

They get out one by one, Harry depositing Lux into Tom's waiting arms. Liam and Louis make their way to Bus 1; Harry stays behind them, shuffling her feet. Liam's climbing on the steps when he hears Louis stop behind her. "Oi, Harry, don't be a prat. Y' can bring your fancy fucking candles if you want."

Liam dares to look over her shoulder at Harry, who's already looking up at her. There's a pause, a heavy one, and Liam shrugs softly, trying not to tilt the balance. Harry blinks.

"Yeah, okay." She smiles, not at Liam, and takes the hand Louis offers her before pulling him roughly and running into the bus past Liam. "Bagsy the top bunk!"

"You little _twit_ , don't you dare -" Louis runs after her, fuming, and it's so familiar, this, that Liam forgets for a second how fucked up they all are right now.

She remembers when the bus starts moving though, after Niall gets in and starts chucking things at them for forgetting him. Louis is slouched in the lounge, staring dead eyed at the flat screen watching a car chase in his pyjamas; Zayn's dead for the count, already buried in one of the bunks. Niall's making himself cheese on toast with a quilt wrapped around him, kind enough to offer a piece to Liam. She takes a small corner and lets him snuggle in close to her, sharing the warmth. She's tired, is the thing, and she should probably take a leaf out of Zayn's book and turn in early. But her veins are thumming under her skin and her leg is trembling with pent up energy. Niall must feel it; he doesn't shift his eyes from the screen but he rests a palm flat on her knee under their covers, steadying her.

Harry's been on the phone for the last half hour, catching up with Grimmy who's probably just woken up. Liam watches her covertly as she ends the call, the half smile on her lips whenever she talks to someone she's fond of. It makes her belly ache, a little; she wonders if Harry still gets that way about her now.

Harry throws the phone on one of the armchairs and starts zipping down the hoodie. The boys next to Liam pay her no mind; they've seen Harry undress more times than they can probably count and it's probably about as boring as watching paint dry now. Liam can't not though; Harry's not even putting on a show but Liam's eyes are glued to her and she feels warm, warmer than even Niall's quilt warrants.

She's still in her stage dress; the Saint Laurent one that comes to the middle of her thigh and has a slash on the right side for absolutely no reason. It's cut low in the front, low enough that you can see the shadow between her breasts and just about make out the start of her bird tattoos. Just the sight of it sends Liam into a quiet panic.

Harry kicks off her Chelsea boots, scuffing them even worse when they hit the wall. Then she pulls down her tights, hopping with even less coordination than she usually has. Her legs look pale and white when she takes them off and makes them into a ball; Liam can count her usual array of bruises and the cuts just above her ankle where she’s shaved in a hurry. She messes about twisting around herself and huffing until Louis mutters, “fuck’s sake,” under his breath and gets up to unzip her. He doesn’t make a spectacle of it, just pulls the zip down to her waist and flicks at her because he’s a prick. Harry howls and rounds on him, aiming a punch wherever she can. Her training sessions with Mark pay off; she gets Louis in the groin and makes him double over in pain. From inside the bunks, Liam hears Zayn throw something at the partition and order them to die.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Harry mutters petulantly, kneeling in front of Louis to check if she hurt him. Liam can tell he’s putting it on a bit. But then, so does Harry probably. Her dress has fallen completely off her shoulder now; she’s only holding it up with one hand across her chest. Louis, cupping his dick in agony, suddenly zeroes in on her and pokes at something on her neck.

“Well, well, _well_. Looks like Tulsa’s not all that boring, is it.” His voice does sound quite high to be fair.

Harry slaps a hand over her neck, trying to cover the smattering of pink, blotchy skin there. Liam doesn’t miss the way Harry looks up at her, then away again.

“Don’t, Lou,” she warns.

“When did you have the time, you little sla-”

“I said, don’t, Louis. Isn’t enough that I’ve got every paper out there calling me that?” She’s not shouting, not quite, but the sentiment’s the same. Niall and Liam are barely breathing. Louis’ face falls.

“Hey, fuck, I didn't - you know I didn’t mean that, right?”

Harry looks fierce for about half a second more. Then she grins, her trademark Harry grin and punches Louis on the shoulder. “Toilet break before Kiss You.”

 _“Get_ it, Hazza.” Louis brings her in for a one-armed hug and he sounds impressed. Liam can see though, from the look he throws over at her, the one Harry can’t see, that he’s worried, a little. They all are. Harry’s brave face is just that most of the time; she never really wants anyone to know how vulnerable she can be. It’s been worse in the aftermath of this, after one photo, one stupid, incriminating photo splashed on the front page of every rag in every country, it feels like sometimes.

Liam buries herself deeper into the sofa and into Niall and tries to convince herself that’s just it; she’s worried for Harry. As for the deep hot feeling coiling in her belly, well; she’s just going to have to ignore that.

They start turning in after the guy on tv’s been caught. Louis yawns and stretches unsubtly, then runs to get the bed he wanted before Harry can. Niall, half asleep, has to be pushed into a bottom bunk by Liam and tucked in carefully so he doesn’t roll out with the bus moving. Liam patters about in the bathroom, falling into her bus routine. There’s a tube of toothpaste she has to elbow at to get some on her toothbrush and it takes a lot of rubbing to make her face pink and clean of Lou’s handiwork. She keeps Niall’s jumper on to sleep in and brushes her hair thoroughly.

It’s quiet when she unlocks the door. The lights are off in the bunks and she can only hear the hum from the engine underneath her and the fridge in their kitchenette working overtime in the heat. She rubs a knuckle into her eyes, feeling her muscles ache with the strain of the last couple of days. She should sleep; she’s tired and antsy and needs to sleep whatever this is off. But something stops her; maybe it’s that she needs to settle into the rhythm of the bus after a few spoilt days in a hotel. By the time they're in the Midwest, she'll have gotten over it and the steady hum under his feet will have her asleep in no time, but right now, she’s wide awake.

Or maybe it’s the shadow she can see still in the lounge. She moves unwittingly and stays hidden by the door. Harry’s forgone her bunk for the couch with her legs hanging over the armrest. Her phone is flat on her chest, the earbuds dangling from the side of his head. She’s mumbling a song Liam doesn’t recognise and she looks sweet, eyes closed in a Green Bay Packers shirt that’s about five sizes too big for her. Then the bus hits a bump on the highway and Harry moves and the shirt gets caught under her, exposing the love bites someone sucked under her jaw. Whatever feeling it was that Liam’s been fighting comes back with a vengeance. She clenches her teeth.

“I can see you, y’know,” Harry says in a quiet voice, her eyes still shut. Liam doesn’t jump, doesn’t react at all. She just moves into the lounge, arms crossed, looking somewhere to the right of Harry’s shoulder.

“Can’t sleep?” she asks begrudgingly.

“Knackered, but no,” Harry yawns and stretches. She scratches the exposed sliver of her belly, patting the soft patch in the middle that Mark will be on her arse for. The ferns are peeking out from her white cotton pants. “I want a bed,”  she pouts. She’s only doing that because it’s safe to pout with Liam, because Liam never calls her out on it. Or she never did; she’s not sure where they stand exactly now.

“Should’ve taken a plane,” Liam mutters, turning her back to Harry and pretending to sort out the wires of some game they were playing last time they were on the bus.

“Is it that bad, then? We need to use different modes of transport to avoid each other now?” Liam can hear her planting her feet firmly on the ground as she sits up.

“Would’ve thought it was convenient,” Liam says and she doesn’t like how scathing she sounds. But she can’t help it. “Could’ve fucked someone else on the way. Joined the mile-high club, right?”

Harry takes a sharp intake of breath behind her and Liam feels herself tense up. She doesn’t dare turn around.

“I’m a regular there actually,” Harry says quietly. “It’s been, like, four or five times now. Aren’t you keeping up with the _Sun?”_

“Sorry if I don’t keep a list of who you get off with,” Liam replies, flicking through the Fifa disks forcefully.

“BA air hostess said I was the best she ever had,” Harry’s saying now, and Liam can feel her close now, close enough that when she talks a breath of air tickles the nape of Liam’s throat. “Made her come - _three_ \- times.”

Harry’s definitely behind her now. Liam abandons the stupid games on the floor and stands up, turning around to face her. Harry’s jaw is locked, her eyebrows raised like she’s challenging Liam. She tries to keep her face blank.

“Am I supposed to be impressed by that? I mean, you’ve definitely been practicing, haven’t you? Speaking of the _Sun_ , didn’t you go through like three girls in our hotel in - what was it - El Paso? Sorry, it’s all a bit of a blur.”

Harry’s face is stony. “While you were doing what, Liam? Wanking to your idiot boyfriend to prove how straight you are?”

Liam’s never been good at keeping her emotions in check but she’s got better at it over the years. Now though, it all goes flying out the window. She presses her palms flat against Harry and pushes her. Harry stumbles back, surprised, and loses her balance. She doesn’t fall, held up by the wall.

“Hit a nerve, did I,” she hisses, rubbing at her chest.

“Don’t you _dare_ -”

“Dare what,” Harry challenges. Liam wants to hurt her again.

“Just because you don’t give a fuck what people think -”

Harry laughs hysterically. “Fuck you, if you think that -”

“Suddenly you’re all poster girl lesbian who doesn’t give a fuck about anyone -”

“What am I supposed to do? Cry about being outed in my hotel room and being terrified of fucking anyone with a cunt? Wait, sorry, that’s _your_ thing, isn’t it?”

Liam takes a step back. “Fuck off.”

“That’s it, isn’t it, Leemo,” Harry sneers, taking a step to follow. “You’re jealous that I can fuck anyone I want and you -” Harry laughs, hollow and fake, “well. You get to pretend you don’t want to fuck anyone.”

“You’re such a bitch,” Liam spits out. Harry pushes, keeps pushing, because Harry doesn’t get angry but she knows how to hurt.

“The Sun got it wrong,” she leers. “It wasn’t three girls. It was two because I like taking my time, Liam.” Her voice has gone low and raspy and Liam hates her, she hates her so much she could cry. “Niall couldn’t sleep, did he tell you? I was being so loud -”

“Fuck you,” Liam whispers and Harry just steps closer.

“I could taste them on my tongue the next day, Liam, and they tasted so fucking good -”

“Fuck you,” Liam repeats, only this time she pushes again and pushes herself with Harry until they hit the wall. Her hands clamp down over Harry’s elbows and the bang echoes through the metal of the bus, enough that Liam knows there will be bruises there come morning. She doesn’t care though; it’s satisfying to know she’s leaving her mark on Harry, regardless of whether it hurts.

Harry winces for a second; then, her face turns calm, almost serene. She’s looking straight at Liam, not shying away like they’ve both been doing lately. “Do it, then,” she says breathlessly. Liam searches her eyes.

“Do what,” she murmurs and it’s so quiet she’s not certain Harry can hear.

Harry can’t move, not much, but she tips her head closer, all the same, as close as she dares. Liam can almost taste her, panting as they both are. “Do it,” Harry breathes out.

It’s like a dam breaking, that simple sentence giving her permission. Liam keeps her hands gripped tight and leans over to push her mouth over Harry’s. It’s not delicate; Harry opens her mouth immediately and Liam’s tongue chases after hers, sucking until Harry moans. She can feel the hum of it from Harry’s chest to hers and it sends her reeling. She pulls back and focuses on Harry’s bottom lip, shiny with spit. Her teeth sink deep and then there’s a metallic taste in her mouth and Harry’s fidgeting against her, not like she wants her off, but like she can’t help it. Liam goes back to kissing her, pressing herself closer and forgetting to keep hold.

Harry whines and sags against the wall a little without the support but Liam can’t focus, not when Harry’s tongue is in her mouth. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registers Harry grabbing her hands and guiding them under her shirt. Liam shrugs her off, because no, this is going to be how _Liam_ wants it. She keeps her hands there anyway, sneaking up to find purchase. Harry’s nipples are hard under Liam’s flat palms and she squeezes as much as she dares, feeling a shiver course through her when Harry’s mouth goes slack and she groans. It makes Liam want to die a little, that her pressing on the sensitive skin of Harry’s nipples makes her react like that.

Harry’s arms wind around Liam’s neck, pulling her in. Liam goes, because she never wants to be further than this from Harry if she can help it. She pinches skin between her thumb and forefinger and grunts when she feels Harry gasp into her mouth. It’s terrifying, a little; how much she wants to _hurt_ , herself or Harry, she’s not sure, the lines have blurred since they started yelling at each other, probably since even before that. She bites down on Harry’s mouth at the same time, tasting blood again, and it makes her shake, that she has the power to do this. Her mouth slips from Harry’s, overwhelmed, and she can feel her face is wet, from sweat or tears or both. She squeezes again, eliciting another whimper from Harry. Liam can see her bite down on the cut in her lip, by accident maybe, or maybe not, trying to keep quiet. The arms behind her ease down her back in a soothing motion.

“It’s okay, Liam,” Harry’s whispering, pausing to kiss her, chin to jaw to ear. "It's okay."

She didn’t know she needed the reassurance; but she does, and her whole body shakes with it, with that and a sob. Her right hand falls and Harry makes a wordless noise at the loss, only to pant out when she feels it again, rubbing against her pants. They’re wet under Liam’s palm and Liam can tell she’s sensitive, every nerve ending focused and throbbing under Liam’s touch. She goes in circles relentlessly and drops her mouth to Harry’s neck where the bruises are.

They hurt to look at, even now, even when she’s got Harry trembling underneath her. She bites down, teeth first and deep, and Harry chokes out a sob, pressing her hand to her mouth to stop herself. The skin breaks and Liam doesn’t soothe it, just sucks hard, trying to cover anyone else’s mouth with hers. The skin feels feverish on her tongue when she finally licks over it. She leans back and Harry’s collar bone is purple and raw, the date scratched there in ink hard to make out. It should make Liam feel guilty or ashamed or _something_ ; but it doesn’t, it just feels good.

"Liam, Liam." Harry's babbling, her head back against the wall, exposing her throat to Liam. Liam watches her, the way she has her eyes squeezed shut, the way she's biting into her lip despite the blood drying there, the arms she has bunching up Liam's jumper. She's close, Liam can tell. She presses down against Harry's cunt harder, rubbing over and over relentlessly until she could lick at the sweat pooling in the hollow of her throat. Harry makes a noise - short and shallow, like it's being ripped out of her - and then she stops her shaking and falls, a dead weight against Liam.

Liam can only hear their breathing in unison. It feels like she has a stitch in her side, like she's ran a marathon and the tiredness she's been fighting since she got off stage hits her like a wave. Harry's forehead is pressed onto her shoulder and she suddenly whines, the arms holding Liam close going tight against her back. For a second Liam's confused; then she blinks and remembers who she is and where she is and who she's with and her hand is still rubbing circles against the wet patch of Harry's knickers. She hasn't stopped probably and Harry coming didn't make a difference. She looks at her, her face screwed up and brows furrowed, and she looks gorgeous and Liam is fucked in her head because she wants to ruin her.

She pulls the elastic back, her fingers still moving, and Harry's skin feels like it's burning against her. Harry jerks at the feeling of Liam pushing again, not sure if she wants to move away or stay put, but looking helpless to do either. Her breathing speeds up again and Liam can hear her heart going double time, the rest of body trembling, whether with aftershock or in anticipation.

It takes no time almost for Harry to go taut, her back going rigid and then loosening all at once. Her knees buckle properly this time and Liam catches her, one arm around her waist. She takes her other hand slowly away from Harry, careful not to touch too much. Harry keens at it anyway, over sensitive and spent. They're almost cuddling like this; if anyone walked in - and it's the first time Liam lets herself think it, how easy it would have been for anyone to walk in on them - they'd be forgiven for thinking this was nothing but an embrace.

She lifts her sticky hand and cups Harry's jaw gently. Harry doesn't resist, not even when Liam presses her thumb between Harry's sore lips. She licks, obediently, and Liam's entire world collapses. She gives her another finger and Harry licks her clean, never letting her eyes drift away from Liam's. It's too much to take; she feels tears stinging her eyes and whatever fucked up instinct has been taking over evaporates. She leans over, soft this time, and kisses Harry, her tongue soothing over her cut lip. Harry manages to stand on her own, her fingers intertwined at the nape of Liam's neck to hold her close.

They kiss until one of them misses the other's mouth by a good few inches, lack of sleep and everything else they've kept pent up catching up with them. It would be funny, any other day; now, Liam barely has the energy to smile weakly. Harry, heady with her orgasms, is a bit more relaxed. She matches Liam's weak efforts and grins, her eyes heavy and lidded.

"We should sleep." Liam clears her throat and it hurts how raspy she sounds. Harry nods dumbly.

"You're in the bottom, under Lou, yeah?" Harry sounds lovely, on the other hand; all mellow and slow and it's doing things to Liam she'd rather not think too much about.

Liam pulls back then, both their arms dropping to their sides. "We're not sleeping together, Haz."

Harry frowns. "I think you'll find -"

Liam shakes her head. "No, I - this was - I don't think -"

"Shh, Liam," Harry whispers, pressing a palm against Liam's mouth. "Let's just go to bed, yeah? You can think tomorrow."

Liam can't argue with that, couldn't even if she wanted to. And she doesn't at all. She wants to sleep with Harry, like she used to when they were eighteen and wide eyed about being on the road, cuddled up and warm and _safe_. She doesn't know how long it's been since it happened last; she only knows how much she's missed it.

"Okay," she mutters, slipping her fingers into the hand Harry offers. "Okay."

They tiptoe into the bunk area, sidestepping boxer shorts and tank tops, both of them making a face at the boy smell surrounding them. Liam can see Harry itching to light a candle but she stops her, the fear of fire overpowering her disgust at Louis' socks. Harry leans down to put in a new pair of pants - blue and frilly and almost certainly Liam's - and then she drags Liam over, slipping into the bed first. She shuffles until her back arches against the wall, then pulls back the covers to let Liam in. She goes quietly, moaning at how good it feels to lie down.

Harry's eyes almost glow in the dark. Her hand travels to Liam's face, stroking down her cheek with a blunt fingernail. She kisses her softly, her tongue lazy in Liam’s mouth. The itch that was there before - the need to drag her nails into Harry’s skin - has dulled to a days old bruise but it sparks up, just for a second, when she feels the heat in her thighs. Too tired to do much about it, she catches Harry’s bottom lip between her teeth as she pulls back. Harry’s answering whimper makes her heart pound.

“Later,” Harry mumbles, smiling languidly. Liam nods, not so terrified at the thought now.

Harry hums, snuggling into the pillow. Her eyes flutter shut almost immediately.

It doesn't take Liam longer to follow. She turns on the spot, allowing herself a moment of weakness to pull Harry's arm around her waist.

 _Later_ , she thinks, and falls asleep smiling.


End file.
